


the world is falling around you

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Crying, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, angel - Freeform, implied depression, lots of death mentions, pure angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:39:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5888005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil thinks he might be Dan’s guardian angel, but he really isn’t sure. Dan doesn’t really care as long as Phil’s still around. Everything’s complicated and strange and perhaps a little broken to the point where it can’t quite be fixed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the world is falling around you

**Author's Note:**

> basically, this is an angel au that casey asked for but angst that no one asked for !! haha good times,, but really i know nothing about religious angels so i kind of. tweaked things to be how i could use them in this story (aka don't get offended if it's inaccurate)
> 
> title from the airborne toxic event's "sometime around midnight"

Phil, like a lot of people, had before dreamt of attending his own funeral, but he’d never in a million years thought that would ever actually happen. And yet, here he was.

Here he was, standing in the back of a crowd of his loved ones, his coffin positioned at the front. He felt oddly serene despite the fact his dead body lied a few metres in front of him. It wasn’t necessary for Phil to push his way through the crowd of his mourners; he passed right through them – careful not to look at their faces – until he reached his coffin. Staring at his own corpse, he wondered when he’d left it.

There wasn’t much to recall from the limbo between the moment he died and the moment his soul lived again. No pearly gates greeted him; no white lights or singing or anything, really. All he could remember from after he died was complete nothingness, and then he was here. He didn’t know how long it’d been; he didn’t know exactly what had happened, or why he was even still here. He thought it pretty obvious that he was some sort of ghost, or maybe an angel, but what was he to do?

All he _could_ do was stand there, staring wistfully at the physical form he’d left. He couldn’t turn around and face everyone; he couldn’t bear see them cry. But he had to.

As far as Phil knew, they couldn’t see him. So, as he turned around slowly, he saw his mum and his aunt hugging tightly, tears falling relentlessly and choked sobs wracking their bodies. Phil was just thankful that his mum had faced the other way. Phil’s father sat a little ways away, his face stoic and statuesque. He stared right through Phil. Other relatives cried and offered condolences, words of how Phil “died too soon” and how he “deserved so much more”.

Did he really? Phil had achieved many great things in his life – as had been said already during the actual funeral ceremony. He felt selfish to wish he’d gotten longer. Though, when he spotted Dan crying in the crowd, he didn’t care if he was selfish.

Dan sat alone; that was undoubtedly his choice. He’d likely told everyone to leave him alone. He probably didn’t even want to come. Well, Phil hadn’t necessarily wanted to come either. Here they were.

Unlike Phil’s father, Dan seemed to stare directly _at_ Phil. His eyes were clouded with tears, his hair disheveled and his hands fidgeting in his lap. He swallowed thickly and cast his gaze away from Phil and his coffin, shaking his head. Phil almost wanted to call out to him, but he couldn’t. Dan couldn’t see him, anyway. The gesture would’ve been pointless.

Nonetheless, Phil watched Dan stand eventually from his spot and walk over to Phil’s mother, taking her into a strong embrace. They both seemed afraid to let go.

* * *

After Phil’s body was lowered into the ground, the crowd eventually dispersed, as crowds do, and Phil wanted to leave with them, but where would he leave to?

He decided to stick around with the few stragglers, those being his immediate family and Dan. Phil’s mother clenched a overused tissue in her fist, looking as if she were willing herself not to cry anymore than she already had. His father and brother stood beside each other, staring at the freshly laid ground that held Phil’s body beneath it. Dan was brooding alone nearby, as was to be expected. Phil wanted to approach everyone and hug them and tell them it would all be okay, but he didn’t know if that were true. At least, for him it wasn’t. They could move on from his death, eventually, but what was Phil to do? He didn’t quite understand what he’d done to be trapped in this limbo.

He didn’t want to think about what would come after this. He’d obviously died already; did he need to die again? Were there others like him? Could he _see_ them? Too many questions whirled through Phil’s mind – too many questions that he couldn’t answer.

Phil’s thoughts were interrupted by speech; his mother had approached Dan.

“We can’t stay here any longer,” she said, her voice wavering. “Do you want to ride with us? We wouldn’t mind the detour back to your flat.” Her last two words possessed no malicious intent, but they still thrusted a dagger through Dan’s heart.

“I’m just,” Dan stuttered, torn harshly out of his thoughts, “I’ll stay here for a little while. You all can leave.” He forced the saddest smile Phil had ever witnessed, and his mother reciprocated the gesture.

“Take care of yourself, Dan,” Phil’s father bid Dan farewell, and Dan waved weakly in response.

Phil watched as his family walked out of the cemetery, leaving him alone with Dan – or, leaving Dan alone. And, honestly, it was hard for Phil to stand looking at Dan this distraught. He could only manage to observe for a few seconds at a time before he forced himself to look away. Dan’s skin was splotched with red, his eyes had obtained a permanent lining of moisture along the bottom lid, and his fingers never stayed still. They aggressively scratched at anything Dan held or at his hands; Phil wanted to walk over and take Dan’s fidgeting hands into his own.

He couldn’t.

Perhaps Phil underestimated how much Dan would miss him if he were to die, because Phil had never imagined Dan staying in solitary at the cemetery after the funeral had been over for five hours. The sun began to set and Dan still persisted, sitting in the grass near Phil’s tombstone. Phil stayed with him until he couldn’t bear it anymore, walking out of the cemetery gates and mindlessly roaming London.

He came across a set of trees that still had fairy lights strung on them despite the fact Christmas was months ago, and he sat underneath them. The trees reminded him of himself.

It was at this moment that he made himself a promise. Obviously, watching Dan and not being able to help him would not be good for either of the men. So, Phil decided he would go elsewhere – avoid Dan completely – for a month. If Phil were still in this strange state by that time, he would return to Dan to see how he was doing. Phil figured a month was plenty of time for Dan to recover, at least enough time for him to get back on his feet.

And so, Phil left. He traveled, mostly, because he didn’t need to pay to get on planes. The easiest way to stay away from Dan was to be on a different continent, Phil discovered. Though, at each place he visited, Phil couldn’t help but picture Dan beside him, smiling as he ruffled his hair that he’d allowed to curl up naturally. Phil loved Dan’s natural hair, but to be fair, Phil was in love with everything about Dan, and Phil was in love with the man himself. He wished he’d said so.

* * *

Sure enough, after a month had passed since Phil’s funeral, Phil found himself standing before his old flat. The absurd amount of stairs had not changed and Phil climbed them slowly, strangely at ease with the fact they looked no different than they had when he was alive.

He placed his hand on the doorknob as some sort of symbolic gesture – he needed not to open the door to get inside. Still, he hesitated, not sure what he was expecting to see.

Whatever he did expect, it wasn’t what he saw. Everything was the exact same as it’d been when he passed, spare the slight coating of dust that seemed to sit atop the whole apartment. Phil walked into the living room, observing that nearly all the trinkets lining the windows and bookshelf had accumulated a layer of dust. The chairs around the dining table had too, except the blue one. Dan must’ve sat in that one.

A slight feeling of terror filled Phil’s unbeating heart as he continued his trek through his old home, virtually everything untouched. He contemplated turning around before he even came across Dan – if the house were like this, Dan had to have been worse. Alas, he kept towards the closed door at the end of the hall.

He stopped abruptly when he reached Dan’s bedroom door, looking to his own door to see that it was also closed.

“Is someone there?” Phil heard Dan’s voice coming from Phil’s old room.

Frozen in place, Phil didn’t reply. Dan couldn’t see him; _no one_ could.

And yet, Phil’s door cracked open and a brunet head of hair stuck out from it for only a moment. As soon as Dan caught sight of Phil, his mouth dropped and he pulled himself back into the room, slamming the door.

“Who the fuck are you?” Dan demanded through the door, his voice shaky.

Phil treaded carefully nearer to the closed door, “It’s Phil.”  
“Phil’s _dead_ ,” Dan hissed, “He’s dead and you’re not him so who the _fuck_ are you and how did you get in?”

“Dan–” Phil started, but he was cut off by Dan swinging the door open in an attempt to smash Phil in the face with it. Phil wasn’t close enough to the door to be hit, but even if he had been, the door would have passed through him.

The two men stood face to face, Dan’s hand still gripping the knob of the door so tightly his knuckles turned white. Dan swallowed harshly, his eyes not breaking contact with Phil’s.

“You can’t…” The words died upon Dan’s lips as his sight flickered up to above Phil’s head. Phil tried to follow Dan’s line of sight, but when he looked up he couldn’t see anything. “You’re a–”

“I think I’m a ghost,” Phil cut him off, but Dan quickly shook his head.

“You’re an angel.” Dan tore his eyes from Phil and looked down at himself. He started to laugh. “Phil’s a fucking _angel!_ Go figure.”

“How do you know?” Phil inquired, watching Dan chuckle to himself.

“You have a _halo_ ,” Dan explained, “and I have to wake up from this, right now.”

“What? You’re not… dreaming.” Phil began to step closer to Dan, but the latter stepped backwards in response.

Dan shook his head. “I know… that when you were still alive, everyone called you an angel. _I_ did, sometimes. That doesn’t mean you actually get to _become_ one.”

“You think I chose this?” Phil looked down at his hands. He was so pale, and his white sweater rested just over his wrists. All of his clothes were white, and they had been since, _well_.

“Of course I don’t. You’re not real; how can you choose anything?” Dan didn’t expect a response, so he kept talking. “Anyway, it was really nice to see you again and all, but I haven’t dreamt of you in a week now and I thought I was setting a new record.”

Phil frowned deeply, his line of sight trailing to the floor. “This isn’t a dream…”

Dan smiled sadly, “This _is_ a dream, Phil. And that’s… well, it’s okay. But I can’t stay.”

Sighing, Phil nodded. If Dan wanted to try and wake himself up, he could go right ahead and try. He wasn’t going to get anywhere, and Phil would still be there when he gave up.

* * *

An hour had passed before Phil heard Dan venture out from Phil’s bedroom.

“Phil?” Dan called out into the hallway reluctantly, not at all expecting a response, but still somewhat wary.

“I’m still here,” Phil responded, standing from his spot on the couch to greet Dan in the hallway. Dan stopped dead in his tracks at sight of him. “You aren’t dreaming, seriously.”

“You aren’t– You can’t– Phil, you’re supposed to be _dead!_ ”

Phil hesitated. “I _am_ dead.”

“Yeah, well– well, dead people aren’t supposed to come back!”

Dan’s crying.

“I… can leave, if that’s what you want,” Phil offered, a lump growing in his throat.

Dan shook his head, his fringe falling into his face. It was all curly, but Phil didn’t have it in him to appreciate that. The only reason it was left natural was because Dan was so emotionally drained by Phil’s death he couldn’t even straighten his own hair.

“Dan,” Phil spoke, prompting Dan to flicker his eyes up to meet Phil’s. Phil wished he could raise his hand to Dan’s face and wipe the tears away, but…

“You can’t touch me, can you?” Dan blinked; he realized Phil would have hugged him by now, if he could. So, Dan brought his own sleeve up to wipe away tears. The motion proved to be worthless when more spilled over immediately after.

In response, Phil just looked to the ground.

“I wish I could,” he breathed soon thereafter.

“Yeah, and I fucking wished you weren’t dead. Look where we are, now.”

And yet, “Here we are.”

“Here we are,” Dan repeated, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Here they were, and neither of them were quite sure just _why_. Phil didn’t have any unfinished business – none that he could think of, anyway. Phil decided that he was Dan’s guardian angel (“Though I have no clue how to… _guard_ , per se, so…”).

Dan accepted Phil’s theory as he didn’t have anything to counter it with. Neither of them were religious, though religion didn’t seem to explain any of what had happened to Phil, minus the halo and the perpetual white clothing.

Phil hoped that maybe life as he’d known it could return to normal. Life (and death) had other plans.

As only Dan could actually see Phil, he had to keep it a secret. When his mum would call and ask how he was coping, he couldn’t exactly say “Oh yeah, by the way, Phil’s back.”

But, Dan was looking a lot healthier, and everyone who knew him noticed. Phil’d seemingly turned on his caretaker mode as soon as Dan accepted him to be real. He forced Dan to make himself a real meal – “I would make it for you, but.” – and take a shower. For the oncoming days, Phil made sure that Dan didn’t stay in his bed until one in the afternoon, and he always made sure that Dan drank enough water. After all that crying for the past month, Phil thought Dan really needed to be rehydrated.

Phil kind of felt like a parent. No. He felt like a guardian angel. That was what he was supposed to be, right? This was his essence, now. An angel. He didn’t have needs, not really, so he could focus his attention on making sure Dan fulfilled his own.

And Dan didn’t mind. After a month of being a useless lump, really, it felt nice to have someone helping him get back in the swing of things. It felt nice to have Phil.

Dan still cried, though. Often. Sometimes, he had dreams about Phil’s death; he frequently forgot that Phil had come back; but more often than the others, Dan thought about when Phil would leave again. Neither of them knew when or how Phil would leave, they just knew it’d have to happen, at some point. Dan hoped it to be after he himself died. Then, they could leave together. An aching feeling inside him told him this wasn’t the case.

Whenever Phil walked in on Dan crying, he started to sing. Since Phil couldn’t touch him to comfort him, he opted for song. Dan laughed at him the first time, because he’d belted a verse from ‘Toxic’ by Britney Spears, but as the time passed, he sang softer things – occasionally even nursery rhymes and lullabies. Dan still laughed, sometimes. Phil didn’t care. Dan laughing was infinitely better than Dan crying.

Phil also made sure that Dan went out with friends when offered. Dan had said that he hadn’t seen anyone by choice in the month that Phil had been gone. There were plenty of offers; all Dan’s friends wanted to see him happier and healthier, but none of them could get him to come out with them. Louise even showed up at the house once with groceries, but Dan just cried as the buzzer kept going off. She left the bags in front of the door.

Thinking of Dan that distraught made Phil shudder, so he tried not to think of it often. Unlike Dan, Phil willed himself not to think about the possibilities of him leaving in the future. He just hoped he’d have some kind of choice.

* * *

“Phil!” Dan called down the hall, prompting Phil to head in his direction. “Have you seen my moth shirt?”

Phil’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s a moth shirt day? What’s the occasion?”

“Peej and Sophie invited me to a party.”

Phil smiled. “That’ll be fun.”

Dan frowned to himself before quickly casting a small grin in Phil’s direction. “Yeah.”

“As it turns out,” Phil continued, though not oblivious to Dan’s slight dismay, “I _have_ seen your shirt. Which is kind of a miracle, considering what a damn pigsty your room is.” Phil treaded across the room and gestured to the shirt with moths patterned on it on the corner of Dan’s desk.

“Thanks.” Dan walked over and pulled the clothing off of the desk.

“My pleasure,” Phil laughed, watching Dan fiddle mindlessly with the buttons on the shirt.

“Are you…” Dan started, “Are you going to come with me?”

Phil pursed his lips. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. No one else can see me.”

Dan looked down, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks, “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Of course not. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Phil frowned, lifting his hand to press it to Dan’s shoulder as a sign of comfort. He jerked backwards when he realized just what he was attempting.

Dan inhaled sharply at Phil’s actions, turning around clenching his eyes shut. This was one of the uncountable daily reminders that they could never be back to normal, not completely, not ever. Dan breathed out shakily, willing himself not to cry.

Phil stood helplessly behind him, not sure how to help. “Dan…”

“I’m fine.” Dan stood eerily still, as if any movement would cause tears to spill.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Phil sighed. Half of the time he wondered if his presence helped or hurt Dan more. He wished more than anything that it wasn’t the latter, but part of him felt maybe that was so.

As he watched Dan’s shoulders shake slightly as he breathed, Phil couldn’t help but feel like whoever had done this to him – whoever had decided that he was to live on after death – had made a mistake.

* * *

Dan returned late and drunk; PJ walked him up the stairs and to the door.

“Hey, Dan,” Phil could hear PJ speaking softly through the door. “Take care of yourself, yeah? Everyone’s worried.”

Dan grunted. “You all saw me today. I’m fine.”

“I–” PJ stopped. “Alright. Good night, then. But _really_ , Dan, feel free to call us – call anyone – if you need anything. ”

“Night.” Dan sighed as he opened the door, stepping inside to be faced by Phil.

Phil’s eyes raked Dan’s face; his eyes were bloodshot and cheeks hollow. “You drank too much,” he stated.

“Nobody tried to stop me.” Dan sharply turned his head so that Phil couldn’t observe him any longer.

“They don’t know _how_ to help you,” Phil frowned, “They’ve probably tried everything, but you’re so stubborn all the time. Why wouldn’t you let them help you?”

Dan’s face remained facing away from Phil. “Maybe I didn’t want any help.”

“It doesn’t matter if you wanted it!” Phil’s voice raised, “You _need_ it.”

“That’s why you’re here, innit?”

Phil closed his eyes, his voice softening once again. “I don’t know.”

Phil wanted to take his hand and press it to Dan’s jaw, turning his head so they could meet eyes again. He wanted to stroke his knuckle across Dan’s cheek, press the pad of his finger to Dan’s lips. He wanted to tell Dan he was in love with him.

He couldn’t.

“Let’s get you some water.” Phil padded into the kitchen, Dan following him reluctantly. Phil watched as Dan opened a cupboard and took himself out a glass. His hand shook as he turned on the tap, and Phil had to tell him to turn off the water before the glass overflowed.

When Dan turned around, he stared at the glass of water in his hand before setting it on the counter beside him. In one sudden movement, he propelled himself towards Phil, his arms reaching out to hug, to touch, to _feel_.

Phil jumped away with a small yelp of surprise, not wanting to see the expression of horror that would paint Dan’s face if he’d completely passed through Phil’s body. So far, he’d been extremely careful to avoid passing through Dan or even through other object while Dan was around. He just thought it was kind of… strange. Everything was strange.

Dan’s leftover momentum ran him into the far kitchen counter. He slumped to the floor, but not out of hurt. By the way he buried his face in his knees, Phil figured he was embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry,” Dan muttered, almost as if he were saying it to himself.

“Dan,” Phil spoke carefully, softly, “hey, Dan, you’re okay. It’s alright.”

“It’s really not,” Dan choked out, standing and swiping his glass of water off of the counter before storming out of the kitchen.

Phil watched as Dan rushed out, and then he wondered if angels could cry. He thought for sure he’d be crying by now if he were able.

* * *

The next morning came and went; Phil didn’t bother waking Dan when one in the afternoon rolled around. Dan eventually came out on his own around four, his eyes red from crying. Phil looked up when he heard footsteps in the hall, getting to his feet at the sight of a very scruffy looking Dan.

“Are you feeling… okay?” Phil approached Dan slowly, not sure where his thoughts could possibly have gone to since last night.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Dan ignored Phil’s question, his hands fidgeting with each other.

“I’m… not sure. It’s a nice thought, I think. Do you believe?”

“Well, I was thinking that…” Dan swallowed thickly. “God, this is going to sound so stupid.”

“No, it’s not,” Phil assured, “Go on.”

“I was thinking that maybe… we’re soulmates, and that’s why you’ve come back,” Dan’s voice consistently lowered until he was just barely above muttering the end. He didn’t dare to make eye-contact with Phil.

Phil raised his eyebrows, lifting one of his arms to scratch at the back of his neck, “I think that’s just as plausible as any of our other theories.”

“And, uh,” Dan took in a long, deep breath. “There’s this other thing that I really need to tell you. Something that I should have told you a long time ago.”

Phil really hoped it wasn’t what he was thinking. He really, really hoped not. They couldn’t _both_ , could they?

“Can I tell you something first?” Phil figured if he dropped the fact he was in love with Dan, whatever Dan had to say would be marginally less monumental. (Though Phil was dreading the fact it quite seemed that Dan loved him back.)

Dan let out the breath. “I guess, yeah.”

Phil bit his lip; he hadn’t much time to prepare before he decided he was going to say this.

“Dan,” he eventually breathed, and it was soft, and it was nearly broken, “I was in love with you.”

  
“Are you kidding?” Dan demanded rather than questioned, his eyes finally lifting and burning into Phil’s.

Phil wanted to say yes, but he couldn’t. He was not kidding, and Dan stood in front of him but they couldn’t touch, and it was the worst feeling Phil had ever felt, alive or dead.

“No,” Phil heaved eventually, his eyes dropping away from Dan’s.

“Fuck. Jesus fucking Christ. I was in love with you too, you know? I still am. Jesus.” Dan’s breathing was uneven, his eyes searched for Phil’s again but he could not reach them. “This is so hard. You’re here again, and I _still_ love you, and I still can’t have you. Ever.”

“I’m sorry–”

“We were so fucking stupid, Phil! So fucking stupid!” Dan hit the back of his fist against the wall in his outburst, causing a painting on the wall to shiver. “Don’t be sorry,” Dan suddenly calmed, his face softening as he realized what Phil had just said. “It’s not your fault.”

It wasn’t, really. Phil didn’t _wish_ for himself to die that day. But he still did. That had to count for something.

So, they were stuck in an almost, in a maybe, in a wish, in a _we can’t_.

And as Phil started to finally cry, Dan started to scream, though Phil wasn’t really sure why. He wasn’t really sure why Dan was screaming until he looked at himself, soft around the edges and fading into oblivion, and he looked to where Dan was meant to be, but he wasn’t there any longer. This was it.

Phil let out a harsh laugh, tears streaming down his deathly pale cheeks. This was the end? All he had to do was admit his love for Dan? The laugh turned into a sob. Here he was, gone for good. And there Dan was, on the other side, crying his own life away.

How fucking cruel.


End file.
